


Life in the Breakdown

by unknowableroom_archivist



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-07
Updated: 2006-07-28
Packaged: 2019-01-19 16:01:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12413379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unknowableroom_archivist/pseuds/unknowableroom_archivist
Summary: “The offhanded conversation, the stiff body language, the indifferent silence–all were signs screaming out, ‘Potter, sweep me off my feet!’ Now, how could a man ignore signs like that?”� The introduction of certain people into our lives always happens to shift dynamics. James Potter’s classes, commitments, and courtships as seen through his quirky, slanted but amusing breakdown of life.  ...





	1. Love Is Strange

**Author's Note:**

> Note from ChristyCorr, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Unknowable Room](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Unknowable_Room), a Harry Potter archive active from 2005-2016. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project after May 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Unknowable Room collection profile](http://www.archiveofourown.org/collections/unknowableroom).

**Author’s Note:** I decided I definitely need to try and finish the stories I started so long ago, but in wanting to finish them, I have ended up also revising them! So, here is the first chapter of “Life in the Breakdown.” I have it up on fanfiction.net, but this one is the better one (I think). So, I hope everyone enjoys it! Please please please review and let me know what you think! :)

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**LIFE IN THE BREAKDOWN**

Written by Shrk-Bait (Booki)

**\---------------------------------------**

**CHAPTER 1**

_Love, love is strange_

_Lots of people take it for a game_

_Once you get it, you never want to quit_

_After you’ve had it you’re in an awful fix_

“Love is Strange” – Mickey & Sylvia (Dirty Dancing)

**\---------------------------------------**

Since the very young age of six, I wondered what it was and why it was so important to everyone. I first heard about “love” when my next door neighbor, Will Grussman, asked Paula Mackenzie if she would be his girlfriend. I asked him why he would do such a ridiculous thing and he gave me a strange look before saying, “I love her, stupid.”

At the time, I wasn’t quite keen on the concept of a “girlfriend,” but being the competitor that I was (and still am), I told Jessica Thomas, my cousin’s best friend, that I loved her and requested for her hand in marriage. She slapped me and declined, though my boldness earned me instant respect from all the other lads on the street. 

Years later, after I had matured a bit, she became receptive to my charm. 

It looked as if life was compensating me for that mortifying rejection suffered so early in my youth. Life just kept heaping on the rewards—dashing good looks, unmatched athletic ability, irresistible charm.

The girls were drawn to me (honestly, they were). I must admit, I am one of the better looking specimens of the male species. If I was a woman, I think I might just be attracted to myself. It’s a disturbingly conceited remark, but I can’t help the fact that the perfect combination of dominant and recessive alleles of my distinct parental figures resulted in the birth of none other than I, James Potter. 

But that’s another story entirely and I’ve been told that people don’t enjoy diverting on tangents when being told a story.

I realize now, that no one really knew what love was at that age. I certainly didn’t. The phrase, “I love you” meant nothing to me. They all used the word “love” to describe that queasy, fluttery, aching feeling in the pit of the stomach. I got that feeling whenever I ate Aunt Emma’s cooking. That feeling was nothing but a myth meant to seduce the gullible dolts of society into a state of uneasy vulnerability and detachment from rationality. People were naïve and delusional, using adoration as quaint justification to reject reality. I would not push myself into the role of a lovesick villain, not James Potter.

I was determined never to get sucked into this foolish trend of searching the world for your soul mate. Besides, boys could not get their hearts broken—especially this boy. I figured, love was overrated and no one would ever be worth the time I would have to sacrifice to find them and then convince them to fall in love with me. 

I stuck to my plan for years, drifting from one pretty girl to the next and letting go once attachment became imminent. Some cried, some pleaded, some spat in response, but I learned to separate myself from their reactions. It was better for the both of us and I had no regrets about defending my approach towards affection. That routine worked quite nicely for me until one girl came into my life— one crazy, intriguing girl. She changed everything.

\---------------------------------------

“Potter, you are selfish, infuriating, despicable, rude, snobby, and cruel. I have more adjectives—all negative—to add to that list, but I will save them for later since I’m sure you will soon find yet another way to bother me. So I must conclude once again by saying ‘bugger off.’” 

Strange as it may be, it was Lily Evans’ constant barrage of insults that caught my attention. I wasn’t self-destructive or masochistic. I was interested and that was the bottom line. 

She had always been pretty, even when she was scowling. Her eyes always flecked with darker jade whenever she was angry. It was the strangest thing ever, to have eyes changing depending on a person’s mood, but Lily’s eyes did it. That was only one effect my presence seemed to have on her. While her eyes darkened, her face would always turn red, which would cause me to chuckle, which would cause her to become even angrier and even darker and even redder. She had always been pretty. Had that been her only asset, I would’ve lost interest within the first month of pursuit. No, there was more to Lily Evans than “pretty.”

Once, she told me that I was predictable. I remember how bothered I was by that. The next day, I did something absolutely ridiculous and asked, “How was that for predictable?” 

She rolled her eyes, scrunched up her mouth, breathed deeply, and walked away. It wasn’t exactly the reaction I was expecting. Lily Evans was truly unlike any other girl I’d ever come across. There was just something about her that I couldn’t place my finger on, something about her that drew my interest. Sometime in fifth year, I decided that I wanted to make her fall in love with me. Ironically, it was I who took the first plunge. 

I clumsily tripped over my own tangled emotions and fell quite hard for her. The worst part was that I didn’t even realize I was in any danger of slipping until I was far too gone to ever be brought back.

That year, my friends and I thought we were at our prime. Since our arrival at school, everyone knew we were destined for greatness. The infamous Marauders of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, we were called. We were notorious for causing trouble wherever we could, making complete fools out of ourselves, and being loved for it all.

Lily’s public contempt towards the Marauders was a slight setback in my master plan of wooing.

She disapproved of everything we embodied—the risk-taking, the pranking, the taunting. She hated arrogance. Remus tended to gravitate to a higher maturity level than the rest of us and thus earned a bit more respect, whereas I seemed to be the recipient of her most revolted feelings. Perhaps it was because I had taken a sort of leadership role within the group, or perhaps my persona just didn’t sit right with her. All that was certain was we were always at conflicting ends of an argument, no matter what. We butted heads at every instance and muttered curses under our breaths without any resolution and any end. 

That was the way it was for the longest time. Lily would become dreadfully angry at one thing or another that I had done, I would tell Remus what a twat she was being, Sirius and Peter would laugh at the entire situation, and Remus would somehow convince Lily that I was sorry. She would never actually forgive me, but at least she didn’t dwell on the argument. After that, life would usually realign itself into a state of opposition and mutual dislike until the next time I tested her temper (probably the next morning or afternoon if I was behaving). 

So, with all this history between us, the idea that we could ever be romantically linked seemed like a complete impossibility. Two people with no common threads except for an exchanged dislike were surely not a good match. It just so happened that my courtship of Evans began as a poke at my unfailing skill of upsetting her. The boys noted animosity between us and fancied taking advantage of it to humiliate me and get a few laughs. Truthfully, I’m glad they did because the day they began to taunt me was the day I started my gradual fall towards humility and love. 

“Prongs, you’ve got quite a bit of a fan club with Evans, don’t you?” Sirius joked as I sat down on the table, metaphorically battered and bruised from a particularly volatile confrontation in the corridor with Lily Evans.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with that girl. I haven’t done anything wrong.” I pouted, ignoring Sirius’ choking. “She’s a madwoman.”

“You and Sirius convinced a couple of second years to dress up in funny medieval costumes and blow fancy horns to announce your arrival into the Great Hall. Then you both bowed, as if it was a show. From all that, I can only suppose she thinks you’ve made Gryffindor look like a joke, and through association, made her and the other Prefects look like jokes.” Remus suggested as he took a sip from his flask.

“I’m on your side, mate. Oh, High and Mighty James Potter, master of all mischievous mayhem, instigator of immortal infamy, protector of perpetual prankhood. Brilliant, old boy.”

“Oh, but let us not forget the Honorable Sirius Black, purveyor of pleasure and perfection, giant of good-humor and games, titan of trouble and tomfoolery.”

“Of course we can’t forget him, that devilishly handsome rogue. Job well done, I say. Too bad you had to risk the good opinion of your lady fair to do it.”

“She is not my lady fair.”

“Ah, but you knew who I was referring to, did you not?”

“Well, the lady wants a word with you, a very loud word, I bet.”

“Wonderful. I’m off to meet a gorgeous girl. Don’t starve yourselves on my account.” He yelled as he exited the Great Hall.

“Oh, believe me Padfoot, we won’t.” Peter called back as he stuffed a forkful of potatoes into his mouth.

“Well, I thought it was funny, a good way to start off the year. Dumbledore needed to add the excitement to his welcoming introduction.” I muttered, scraping the remains off my plate. 

“It was funny!” 

“It was actually a pretty harmless prank, considering our history. Lily probably forgot the damage you are capable of, not to mention the fact that she is under a bit of stress in her first Prefect year.” Remus decided, his glance moving from the nearly full moon towards the doors of the dining hall, where a smug Sirius and a livid Lily had just entered. “I’m sure it’ll smooth over, though, things between you two always do. Anyway, I have to talk to Dumbledore about . . . you know. See you in the common room later.”

He, as usual, was probably right. Lily Evans had always been destined to become a Prefect. She was the model student and everyone knew she would probably end up as Head Girl by our last year (which she did, in fact). The only person who never seemed to know was Lily Evans. To her, nothing was in the bag. Nothing was secure no matter how many times people had assured her that Dumbledore did not take away Prefect badges over a few escaped pranksters. She seemed convinced that whatever I did would jeopardize her status and reputation. Her mind must’ve been an absolute blur. Sometime between when I was thinking of Lily Evans’ ridiculous insistence on control and the surely confusing state of mind, Remus left the table and Peter finished half of his meal.

Not much later, Lily plopped down next to her friends and immediately began ranting with furrowed brow and fixed scowl, occasionally glancing over towards Peter and I.

“What did she say?” I asked, probably too anxiously, as Sirius returned to his seat.

“Said she loves you. Can’t get you out of her head. Fancies me too. Doesn’t know who to choose. Told her you snore like a Ukrainian Ironbelly. Said she’ll think about whether or not that is a positive attribute.” He replied briskly before finishing the food on his plate and taking the extra bit of Peter’s. “I told her it probably wasn’t.”

Like many of Sirius’ comments, I had no clue if any part of what he relayed back was based even remotely on fact or if any of it was even true at all. Sirius always did have the nerve to make fun of me. He had convinced himself that Evans and I were perfect for each other and would make suggestive comments all the time, just to prove his point. I hated him for it, but over time, he convinced me too. Looking back, I don’t think Sirius ever did me a greater favor.

“You’re an ass. You know that right? Oh and if your daft mind can absorb the information, I don’t love Lily Evans. I don’t even like her.”

“Of course, it’s what gets the ladies.” He smirked, rising with plate and goblet in hand. “And I think you know you do.” 

With one of his cheeky grins, Sirius Black sauntered away, occasionally stopping to chat with some pretty girl who happened to catch his eye.

“I don’t even like her.” I mumbled, glancing over inconspicuously at Lily and her friends.

“I know you don’t.” he assured me. “A person would have to be really dull to think that you do.”

“Exactly! I mean, Evans is a brilliant witch. She’s funny when she isn’t ripping my head off. She’s actually decent looking, too. It isn’t strange for someone to be attracted to her, but not me. I don’t like her.”

“I know you don’t.”

“No. I definitely don’t.” I repeated again, nodding my head confidently before motioning for Peter to follow me away from the nearly empty Gryffindor table. “Plus, I would have to be unbelievably self-loathing to risk even trying to like Lily Evans.” 

My comment at the time was ironic to the core because whether I knew it or not, I had already begun to like her. “The Marauders” was a suitable title; we loved to gamble with our lives, doing the most reckless things at the most inconvenient times. We were thrilling and bold and intense. It was part of the charm. For me, Lily Evans was a risk. She stood between the calls of sound rationality and the cries of all the lovesick saps dragging me into their deep world of affection and feeling.

It wasn’t until later that I would threaten my pride and stubbornness by taking a chance on Lily Evans. For once in my life, there were no cheat codes, no hint books, and no secret passageways. I couldn’t take the easy way out because there was no easy way out. 

There was Lily Evans and there was me. That was worth the risk.

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**PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE REVIEW! :) They make me really happy.**  


	2. Changes

**Author’s Note:** I’m back from vacation in Thailand, so now I think it is certainly time for an update. I can’t believe how much I’ve missed writing this story. I’ve gotten decently far, actually. I just have to fill in holes and revise chapters I’ve written in the past. I like this version much better than the one on fanfiction.net. Also, I loved all the reviews and I’m so thankful that everyone is supportive! Thank you so very very much! More explanations at my livejournal account: www.shrk_bait.livejournal.com. I will respond to reviews from chapter 1 and talk about the stuff in chapter 2 soon, maybe later today or this week. I figured I would just get this up and do everything else after. Please check it out and feel free to add me. I’ll do my thank you and explanations over there. Meanwhile, please please please read and review this! I will love you dearly.

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**LIFE IN THE BREAKDOWN**

Written by Shrk-Bait (Booki)

**\---------------------------------------**  

**CHAPTER 2**

_Changes, turn and face the strange changes_

_Pretty soon now, you're gonna get older_

_Time may change me, but I can't trace time_

_I said that time may change me, but I can't trace time_

“Changes” – David Bowie

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I can’t even remember when it became a necessity to always be around her. Sirius had convinced me that all I had to do was ask and she would gladly accept my advances. I should have known that she would be much harder to win over than that. I also should have known that Sirius usually gave me advice that would make me look absolutely foolish. I forgot both of these points of former knowledge and it was all downhill from there. 

Over time, I began to actually get to know her, something I never expected to do. I didn’t get to know girls. I spoke casually with them, but nothing too deep. They didn’t know much about me either, to make things fair. If I had to choose which of my previous girlfriends I felt most connected to, I would be in quite a predicament because I wasn’t connected to any of them. I was unattached and refused to allow them to cling too closely to me as either.

I didn’t want to understand Evans or become friends with her or trust her. I wanted to court her. To me, there was a solid line, terribly thick, that separated the two. But apparently courting a girl required more than just knowing a basic fact sheet outlining her personal qualities. This was a surprise to me because the fact sheet method always seemed to work prior to my attempts with Lily Evans. So, I tried things the more difficult way and somewhere along the lines, Lily Evans and I became friends.

That was, of course, after multiple rejections in front of the general population of students at Hogwarts. After I’d made a complete and utter fool out of myself once, there really wasn’t much to lose. So, I kept at it. Her blunt refusals, rather than deterring me or boring me, interested and irritated me. I was stubborn and kept believing that the next time would be the one. I kept thinking that she would give in. I figured that after a few persistent tries, she would just surrender and become tired of refusing me. After all, a girl only has so much stamina built up within herself to run away from such an irresistible offer.

Truly and frankly I say that Lily Evans must have had the stamina of at _least_ a hundred wild boars, because, boy, did she refuse me—over and over and over again.

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“C’mon Evans. One date won’t kill you. What exactly do you have to lose?” I offered, flashing one of my incredibly swoon-worthy grins (they truly were that wonderful).

If it had been any other girl, her knees would’ve buckled and she would’ve fallen pleasantly into my ready arms. Obviously my luck had shifted for this was no other girl. This was Lily Evans, and she would rather face a thousand Unforgivable curses than let herself willingly fall into my arms. That was the way she wanted to play our game (hard to get, I have heard it being called), so I created my master scheme: to trip Lily Evans. Not literally, of course, but mentally. I would get her guard down and when the moment was right, slap her with an undeniable dose of charm and charisma. She would trip, I would be there to catch her, she would no longer hate me, and I would prove just what an incredible fellow I really was.

At least, that was how things were meant to work out. Clearly she had slightly different plans.

“Oh, Potter, if only you knew—pride, face, decency?” She spat back, giving me one of her frosty glares. “The choice is yours.”

“That’s rather simple. I pick decency. I’ve been out with plenty decent girls.”

“Right right. Well, I just happened to have heard it through the grapevine that you were connected to Kirsten Ackerly, who poured porridge on Diana Bishop‘s head because you were flirting with Diana in Herbology. What about Hester Baddock? What a winner right there. She attacked Justine Quirk, even though they’ve been best friends forever, because she thought Justine had taken your present when it was actually Janice Timms, their roommate, who took it.” she listed bitterly, disgusted by my impudence. “And I could name a million others, brimming with your sort of _decency_. Petty women are the future and a lovely future it shall be.”

“Do I smell a sense of jealousy?” I retorted, eyes twinkling mischievously. She loved me. I was only in my fifth year of Hogwarts and I had already amassed the great encyclopedia of knowledge of women, enough to know that she loved me.

“Oh, that would be the stench of idiot—you.”

“You’re jealous, I knew it!”

“Right, I’m deathly jealous of you and your harem. Please kill me so that I will not suffer the sight of your other conquests anymore. I cannot bear it.” She scoffed dramatically, once again turning her back to me and storming away.

I watched her depart, obviously glad to be rid of my presence. Heaving a heavy sigh, I absentmindedly ran my hands through my disheveled hair. She was a tough one to break.

“Any luck, mate?” a voice taunted from behind me, posing a question that required no verbal answer. Her rampage away from me was enough proof. 

Sirius Black always liked to poke fun at my failed attempts of winning her over and yet, he was the one encouraging me. In our younger years, we had many unofficial competitions over trivial things—scores, Quidditch, pranks, women. I’d like very much to say that I emerged victorious every time, leaving poor Padfoot wallowing in his own self-pity. I’d like to say that my charms far surpassed his and I was the superior Marauder, but even I am honorable enough to admit a stalemate. He was a brilliant competitor, that Sirius Black.

“Padfoot, look at my face.” I snapped bitterly, pointing to my handsome features. “Do I look the slightest bit happy?”

“Not particularly. So it looks as if Miss Evans is still quite available. Good to know.” He smirked having known me long enough to know how to irritate me. “Perhaps I’ll mosey over and have a quaint chat with the saucy minx if you can’t even manage to talk civilly with her.” 

I knew he would never truly chase her. Our friendship was far too important to jeopardize with something as inconsequential as a woman, but it brought him a sort of cruel sense of happiness to pretend as if he _was_ after her. I was sure that I handled his taunting well, but the others would only chuckle when I declared that his jokes had no effect. Maybe I overreacted once or twice—just a bit—but that was all.

“Don’t mock him. Don’t you think all those insults and rejections have injured his ego enough? I mean, honestly, being turned down over and over and over by the same girl. It must have some sort of psychological repercussion.” Remus chuckled, he and Peter heading towards us.

“It’s not as if I care.” I shrugged, attempting to seem nonchalant. “She’s just stubborn, that’s all. It’s only the beginning of our fifth year. She’s bound to let a ‘yes’ slip sometime before the year ends, right?”

They glanced hesitantly at each other, wondering whether or not the question had been rhetorical or not, I’m sure. Their failure to respond disheartened me, but not to the point that I end my pursuit of Lily Evans. Eventually, she would say yes and I would figure out, once and for all, if I had any legitimate feelings for her. She was interesting—I knew that. I just needed to know if I fancied her and if I did, why?

I vowed the next day that I would be the most charming I’d ever been, the most handsome man she’d ever laid eyes on, the ideal suitor for Miss Evans. I vowed that it was the day she would come to her senses and quickly accept my offer. Many, many, many refusals later and Lily Evans continued to elude me. By the end of fifth year, she had already threatened to curse me into oblivion if I didn’t leave her alone, claimed that she would rather pursue a relationship with the Giant Squid over me, and permanently attached a collection of harsh insults to my name.

Of course it fazed me a bit, but instead of putting her insults to good use and making an effort to change my supposedly egocentric ways, I did quite the opposite. I sought after her even more with greater intensity and just as much arrogance. We were locked in a battle of wills, one of us bound to give in eventually. She was quite hard-headed when it came to refusing me. I’m sure she realized that if it had been any other guy, she would’ve won ages ago.

That was her mistake. She forgot a key point in our game—I was James Potter and James Potter never goes down without a fight. That was exactly what it had become, a fight over her heart. I never expected to have to jeopardize mine in the process.

**\---------------------------------------**

You see, sixth year was actually the pivotal point in my transformation of sorts from carefree, swoon-inducing rogue to slightly more mature, still swoon-inducing man.

In my last years of Hogwarts, for one reason or another, I changed. I didn’t change for the sake of Lily Evans, if that was implied by the context. I didn’t decide to all of a sudden become a better person just so she would accept my offers to Hogsmeade. Women are constantly talking about how they would never change for a man. Well, changing for another person is a tragedy shared by both sexes. Men can change for women and by doing so they lose all respect they may have had from their manly peers. People get their words confused.

I have always thought that it was perfectly acceptable—for men or women—to change _because_ of someone. Because, not for. People change because of their friends, their family, their professors, their peers, all the time. We are all constantly reinventing ourselves because of the influence someone else has presented in our lives. So why is it so socially reprehensible to change when someone new brings something new into the mix? Something better? I thought it was perfectly fine and thus, I proudly admit it—I changed because of her.

I changed because of Lily Evans.

At least, it appeared that way. Sure, it could have just been that Lily Evans fully entered my life at the same time as something else and it was the something else, not Lily, which was responsible for my personal character alterations. It was possible. It cannot all be credited to my ever-growing fascination with her. Still, I will take my chances and be bold enough to say that she was quite a large factor in my transformation.

Sixth year was the real year of maturity, at least in comparison to the previous five. It was the time of our Animagus transformation peaks, excessively dangerous dealings concerning Snape, brief row between Marauders, unavoidable choosing of career decisions, serious effort in classes, beginning of Marauder’s Map, and of all things, close relationship of the Marauders in relation to Lily Evans, a sight that—above all other things—no one expected to see.

She had always been widely accepted and admired, despite the fact that she was devoted entirely to studies and school rules. Most of the time, the general public tends to dislike these sorts of people. They find rule sticklers dull, unwilling to take chances or make mistakes. People who give the impression of infallibility are met with jealousy, spite, rejection. So, it was a bit strange that Lily Evans, who appeared the epitome of flawlessness and prudery, was so well-liked by the common people of Hogwarts. They were a funny bunch because on the same side of the popularity spectrum was the Marauders—careless, impulsive, and ridiculous. They always loved us as well.

The only difference between the adoration the student body felt for us and for Lily Evans was that hers came much more naturally. She somehow managed to earn their respect without doing much but scoring well on exams and smiling whenever people passed her way. Our method was much more involved. I suppose that when boys are young, it is very important for them to assert their independence from all sorts of controls, academic or not. The four of us were prime examples of this desire. Because of Remus’ denunciations as a kid, Sirius’ exile from the House of Black upon becoming a Gryffindor, Peter’s naturally uncharismatic nature, and my own desperate longings for a reputation unfettered by the status of my familial ties, we all silently decided that Hogwarts would be our time. It would be known as the era of the Marauders, greatest band of ruffians ever seen.

The best part was that it worked.

The majority of the school showered us with praise no matter what we did. Whether it was taunting _Snivellus_ after hours or livening up a monotonous class with a cleverly amusing comment, people desperately tried to curry favor with us by any means possible. There were, of course, a select few that were not able to grasp the concept of obsequious Marauder worship. Lily Evans, always the nonconformist, being one of the select few. 

One other happened to be my arch nemesis, Severus Snape, who we had wittily bestowed the callous title “Snivellus.”

I hated the slimy git, proudly and publicly. There wasn’t a particular incident to offer that fueled this deep loathing for the greasy-haired Slytherin. It was just our silent and mutual agreement of endless hatred. He embodied everything I despised and vice versa. So really, it was only natural for us to be enemies.

It is exceptionally difficult to describe Snape and fully capture the intense loathing of our history. He had this fanatical obsession with the Dark Arts, more so than anyone I had ever met. He fed off the power that resonated from the exploration of black magic and savored every moment of it, relishing in his own superiority and strength as he practiced it. Snape was a freak of sorts.

To be honest, I was never fond of the Dark Arts. Perhaps my distaste for it had spawned from our incompetent, malicious Professor or perhaps it just didn’t suit me. Whatever the reason, I dreaded having to master it. I dreaded it so much, in fact, that I actually considered taking the regular course, as opposed to the tedious N.E.W.T level class. I envisioned the simple year I would have learning about basic defense techniques and completing busy worksheets outlining the methods of protection against the attacks of dangerous creatures or wizards. It would’ve been absolute bliss. My hopes were shattered once McGonagall informed me that a more advanced curriculum was required for my desired (and secret) choice of profession—being an Auror demanded extensive knowledge in most of Hogwarts’ more prominent subjects, Defense against the Dark Arts and its suspiciously shady professor included.

It really was a tragedy, how the single career I had any interest in was the one taught by a man of questionable ethics and involving the darker side of the magical world that I disliked so much.

But I was proud. I wanted the challenge. It was a well known fact that Professor Hornsby hated me. He never cared for my father or my family either (something about Potters). He was dreadfully biased and would no doubt spend the year deducting points unreasonably and criticizing everything from my approach to defense to the way I held my wand. But it was a challenge, wasn’t it? I loved a challenge. Whether or not I would end up becoming an Auror and actually needing the class was questionable. So, I would do it simply to test myself. With that mantra tucked closely to the functional part of my brain, I complied with the harsh demands I had subjected myself to.

Needless to say, I wasn’t all that pleased at having to apply myself to succeed, that is, until a certain red-headed Gryffindor Prefect strolled briskly into practically every single one of my difficult N.E.W.T classes during my sixth year. Thank god for Auror requirements and McGonagall’s guidance. I knew I always liked that loony bat.

**\---------------------------------------**

“Potter? What the hell are you doing in this class?” a voice stuttered exasperatingly as I casually twirled my wand, the wood rotating impressively between my pointer and middle fingers.

Initially, it came as quite a shock to me that we would be enrolled in the same courses. It flustered me a bit to hear her voice, but being the quick-witted person that I am, I was able to recover my cool exterior.

“Ah, whose sweet voice is it that I hear? Who could it be? Moaning Myrtle, McGonagall, Peeves, perhaps?” I joked and cupped my ear, not bothering to look behind me, though she and I were both quite aware that I knew who was addressing me.

I predicted the sharp tonal rise in her voice, the indignant hands rested upon her hips, anger flashing at my insolence. As tradition predicted, I was right.

“You know perfectly well who this is.” she spat, as I feigned ignorance and continued my mocking game. “Someone who doesn’t want to get stuck sitting anywhere near you.”

With that I heard her robes swish and her shoes step further away. For a moment, I considered letting her go. My pride was speaking loudly and clearly. It insisted she leave. Why should I have to change my mannerisms in order to compensate for her lack of well-rounded humor? I mapped out the conditions of our sixth year at Hogwarts if I had let her simply walk away and continue to think me an ass. In that brief moment of contemplation, I decided to stop her.

“Evans,” I spoke abruptly, causing her to cut short her huffy departure. “What say you and I try to get along this year? It _is_ almost our last year, you know. No use letting animosity boil ‘til death.”

She spun around, her eyes piercing through me in hopes of acting as some sort of lie detector.

“Are you alright?” She asked as her mouth hung agape and the back of her hand flew to touch my forehead. “James Potter wants to get along with another human being?”

“Is that so strange?”

“Merlin, call the Ministry! Call the Saint Mungo’s!” she cried, waving her arms crazily. “James Potter is trying to be civil!”

“You don’t have to mock me for it.”

“No, Potter, years of dealing with your mischievous band and the destructive mayhem left in your wake gives me the right to mock you for it.”

“You should at least consider it.”

“Oh, I’ll consider it, but whether or not we get along any better than we have in the past is up to you. I won’t waste my time trying to make nice with someone who continues to be the central bane in my life here at Hogwarts.”

“It’s good to see you being optimistic and I personally feel that—”

At that point, I had every intention of telling her that I was more concerned about her keeping her old ways of prejudice against me than of me keeping my fondness for irritating her. I had plenty of people to irritate, whereas she had negative preconceptions with only me (Sirius and Peter in smaller terms). This explanation; however, was cut short by Lily Evans’ harsh hushing and violent waving of hand.

“Shut up. Class is beginning.”

She quickly leapt into the seat in front of me and blindly reached into her bag for our History of Magic book, though with Binns as the teacher, I couldn’t imagine there being a need for preparation. He used up half the lesson time just by checking attendance anyway, but Lily Evans was Lily Evans and there was no use trying to rationalize anything she did.

That fact—that Lily Evans was, indeed, herself—was the sole reason why I believed that improving our bitter relationship between squabbling children into a decent one between mature colleagues was not going to be a simple task.

**\---------------------------------------**

The lads and I, to kick off a sophisticated sixth year, decided that the main change and impression we should make to the school would be a classy one. Nothing showy, nothing sparkly, just simple. It was a step up from the semi-permanent state of our very first imprint. That had been bold and bright and noticeable. This would be clever and refined, barely noticeable unless anyone paid much attention to the portraits of memorable contributors and alumni of Hogwarts. All it needed to be was permanent. Then we would be too.

Over the years, we decided that anyone who didn’t know about us was a daft idiot who wasn’t worth impressing. We didn't need an introduction anymore. We needed a reminder, something that would hold against the test of time, be there until the very end. Besides that, we were getting older and if we were to become serious (somewhat) about our futures, we needed to have something more lasting, more remarkable, more subtle and developed. This next one was just the ticket. It was perfect.

On that particular date of execution, the entrance on the end of the hallway closest to the Great Hall was chaotic, kids running like chickens with their heads chopped off because it was the first full day of class and they had not yet managed to locate alternative routes to their respective rooms. The school had much educating to do, but we believed very firmly in self-education.

“Sorry, folks, but this major hallway is being closed for repairs and renovations. Please find alternative routes to your next class and I assure you that we shall be out of your hair and you will have your precious main walkway back very soon.” I announced, bellowing across the panicked and complaining mass of students before us. “Good luck, study hard, and eat vegetables.”

“What exactly are you doing to the hallway? Can’t this happen another time?” A meddling little second year Slytherin questioned rudely. He looked like a little toad.

“This, young man, is top secret. Strictly for our eyes only—Dumbledore appointed, don’t you know? Also, he mentioned the information being especially N.F.N.B.L.Y.” Sirius replied in a stern business tone.

“NFNBLY? What sort of code is that?” He was a snooping git, that one.

“Not for nosy brats like you. Now, scoot off to class and don’t ask so many questions. They only irritate.” Sirius gave the boy a clever smirk and shooed him away with his hands, winking at me in the process. The snotty kid folded his arms and ran off, I guessed, to avoid being late for class.

“Can’t you just make one exception? I’m already confused enough and I don’t know what Professor Hornsby will tell me if I’m late.” This time the speaker was a pretty blonde first year who barely reached my shoulders in height.

“I feel your pain, honestly. I’ve had one too many detentions from that man alone, but you know what would happen if we let you slip by, don’t you? The other students would hound us until we cried. We couldn’t possibly allow exceptions. Our authority would slip. My suggestion? Start running. A dead sprint to class never hurt anybody.” I replied as kindly harsh as I could. The girl needed nerves to survive at Hogwarts. Weakness was not an option. Plus, it was true! A leisurely run to class was a grand idea. I myself had done it dozens of times, especially after sleepily threatening to curse anyone who woke me up and being late because of my half-conscious outburst.

“The moving staircases, they’ll eat me alive! I’ll never find the Charms classroom!”

“Oh, no worries, they don’t eat. They only move.” Sirius replied before pushing the panicked Ravenclaw aside and stepping in front of a few kids trying to sneak in through the side.

“We’ll be late for class! There’s no way I can get to the dungeons without going through this hallway! The professor will kill me! I won’t even live to see my first final exam!”

“Ah, sonny, that’s not a reason to live for—” I assured him, about to say more before I felt a pair of very angry eyes drilling a hole into my forehead. I could only assume the worst.

“Potter! You are going to burn for this and if no one else will do it for me, I’ll do it myself—painfully and slowly.”

As my back faced towards the inevitable, I motioned to Sirius, who had been checking on the progress of our scheme, to hide. This one would be my treat. He gave me a questioning look, clearly unhappy about the decision I’d made to sacrifice myself and play martyr at the very start of term, but with a firm nudge of my head, he shrunk into the shadows behind an old collection of armor apparently once belonging to Godric Gryffindor. Hoping that Sirius would be able to stop Remus and Peter before they approached my side of the hall, I twisted around to meet Lily Evans, her face burning with rage. Surprise, surprise. By her side was toad-boy, quite smug and pleased at having gone crying to the nearest prefect who just happened to be Lily Evans.

“Are we talking Salem witch hunter slowly?” I asked, knowing perfectly well that burning witches did nothing painful at all. I had a feeling Evans knew I was joking and she didn’t look too happy about it. Perhaps that was not the best time for jokes.

“No, dolt, I’m talking burning coal in the hands, dripping lava, gradual poison slowly.”

“Oh, well that doesn’t sound too pleasant.” I winced at the thought of each and every one being forced upon me. Coal, lava, and poison weren’t exactly my cup of tea. A brief glance at Sirius, scrunched behind a suit of armor, told me he was very much in agreement.

“It won’t be.” She growled before magnifying her voice and announcing the sudden open use of public passage to the masses.

“Attention students, this is Lily Evans, one of your Gryffindor Prefects. Please find some other way to class and inform your professors that the _Marauders”_ —the tone of contempt she had when saying _Marauders_ was filled with such rage and malice that I was deathly frightened of what would happen to me—“were up to their usual ridiculousness. If they continue to take off points, I will speak to them personally or ask one of the Head students to do so. I’m terribly sorry for the inconvenience.”

She kicked away the signs we had been using as roadblocks and motioned for the students to pass through, starting a huge wave of scurrying little feet and smelly fresh meat that pushed both of us against opposite walls. Over the hubbub, I yelled my false confession in hopes of sparing all of us from feeling the sting of Lily Evans’ fury.

“Actually, Miss Perfect—I meant, Prefect—Evans, this is not really a Marauder sort of heist. Remus wanted to ask his professor something before class and Sirius is off snogging some girl in an empty broom closet before he hits the books. As for Peter, well, people rarely know where Peter is. He was probably afraid that he would be late to class (because he still doesn’t know where everything is). So this was a solo attempt, not a group one.”

She seemed suspicious and continued to look straight at me, piercing through the crowd of hustling students who had been detained on account of our latest stunt. I smiled brightly, knowing that my offer to improve my relationship with Lily, though it had only been half a day since I made the proposition, was going to suffer greatly because of this little incident.

“Well, that just makes this so much bloody better, Potter. That’s absolutely swell for me. That’s wonderful for all the kids you made late, for all the ones who were panicked that they wouldn’t make it on time to their classes. You know, some people care about those sorts of things.”

“I’m sure I didn’t do too much harm. They’ll live, so relax, Evans.” With that small comment, I saw her eyes widen in the “prepared-to-kill” sort of way and I knew that I was in for it. It was time for another row. I was ready for the worst, or what I thought was the worst. What happened was actually the real worst, much worse than the worst I had thought was worst. It was the worst of the worst and I was completely unprepared for what would happen next. Worst, worst, worst.

“Don’t you think I have enough to deal with, without having to deal with your constant irritation? Grow up—everyone else has. Have the daring to actually follow through. Keep your promises, take some responsibility. People want to go places, Potter. They want to get things done. Their lives aren’t centered on jokes and pranks and silliness. They—we cannot float through life without a care in the world. We don’t have that luxury. So if you aren’t going to muster the maturity to accomplish something of importance in your life, why don’t you, for once, piss off.” She seethed, her breath shallow and cheeks flustered. “Let everyone else make a difference.”

The air between us was completely silent, though the hallway had only begun to clear of noisy students. At that moment, everything felt as if it was just the two of us and not in the romantic sense either. All I could do was stare, so furious that I was frozen by my own anger. That was it. That was what she thought of me. I was immature, irresponsible, unreliable, reckless, worthless, and so what if I was? Who was Lily Evans to pass judgment on me?

At the time, I exploded. She had no right. She didn’t even know me, so saying all those things was a completely unprovoked action. It had never bothered me to be called a prat or jerk or pest. It was fine with me, mostly because I usually was at the time. All that she had said, though, that had no reason behind it other than blind hatred. The only way to respond was an equally unprovoked outburst of equally blind hatred. To me; however, it was a perfectly good reaction for a completely unfair attack.

Looking back, I really was the only one to blame, but the fact that I was a stupid sixth year harboring nearly half a decade of unfriendly history led me to see it all in a much more self-centered, insensible sort of way. Being the unpredictable time-bomb I was during that part of my life, I did what all time-bombs eventually do—I blew up. 

“Well that just shows how unbelievably pompous you are, Evans. Wow. Here I am with the girl who has the nerve to relentlessly criticize me for my arrogance, when she herself is unable to last one minute in conversation without insulting me with her pretentiousness. Don’t you get it? We’re more equal than you think and you just want to keep denying it. Believe it or not, Evans, I’m going places too. You just want to think you’re better than me because you follow the rules and I refuse to be confined by them. Somehow mine is always the lower one. That is the way it is in your eyes because you’re so damn full of yourself. Take a good long look in the mirror, Evans. You’re not better than anyone else and you’re sure as hell not better than me.” I snapped coldly, my nostrils flaring quite unflatteringly and my eyebrows furrowing angrily as they have been known to do in these situations.

It was the harshest I’d been to her (possibly to anyone) and I could tell she didn’t expect it the least bit. Lily blinked a bit, only to turn her eyes away and refocus on the remaining students filtering out of the hall, the students she forgot to monitor in the midst of our war.

It was only natural for her to be upset, but at the time, I was too livid to care. I felt it was just as understandable for me to be upset. Lily basically implied that my life was worthless and the mere thought that it possibly _could be_ sent me off the edge. The chance that stupid pranks and dodgy risks were all there was to me was a chance that I didn’t need to hear about, one that she had brought to the surface with her thoroughly insulting rant. I couldn’t bear the thought of any part of it being true. Most of all, I think I was angriest with life. I was angry because I knew she was probably right. It was probably true. Hearing her say it, though, was an entirely different situation than simply suspecting the idea to be correct.

Everyone had always seen me as the noticeable advertisement on the side of a barren highway, throwing variety and life into a dreary world of dry road. That was my status. I was a person who caught attentions, made people turn their heads, but was always the type of guy too trivial to ever take seriously. I was the “Two Kilometers to the Largest Pig Town in the World” and the “Larry’s Diner—only a half a km away!” To my parents, their colleagues, my fellow students, and current professors, I had always been a sort of gaudy distraction from the stability of reality. Of course, some of them hoped that I would prove to be some sort of shortcut, that I could lead to someplace of importance and substance. Still, in the end, everyone would always turn back to certainty and truth because the main road always takes you somewhere.

Flashy road signs take you to worthless places where all you can get it a shirt that says “I went to ‘so and so’ and all I got was this crummy T-shirt.” Those T-Shirts were practically useless. I was the sort of nowhere that people tried to avoid when mapping out where to go. You couldn’t take a chance on something so unpredictable, so unstable, so unsure. Suddenly, the years I’d spent building up my status seemed wasted. What was the point? It was like the T-shirt. Useless.

She had left quickly once the last of the students had gone through. I don’t even think she looked at me before she left. She just went. Sooner or later, I found myself alone in the hallway. Assuming the other boys had left to avoid being caught as I had instructed, I was all alone and I wanted nothing more than to just continue on my way and forget about Lily Evans. I passed the portrait line of attendees who made significant changes to Hogwarts, finally approaching the most recent. There, posted at the end, were four small individual frames arranged to be exactly the same size as the larger frames. On the bottom of each were small gold plates that read: James Potter, Sirius Black, Remus Lupin, Peter Pettigrew. Inside were the faces of four handsome boys, one winking, the other beaming, another smirking, and the last laughing.

They could move us, slide our well preserved faces along the walls, but we were there to stay, our impact spanning generations and catching glimpses of millions of future Aurors, Death Eaters, Ministry workers, parents. We were there to stay. Hogwarts couldn’t bring us down, not with all the magic in the world. Neither could Lily Evans. She couldn’t bring me down. I would be the best I’d ever been just to rub it in her smug face at the end of it all. That made me smile just a bit. I would prove it to her.

There are some events that can be pegged as “life changing.” Well, I certainly didn’t peg this as one of them, but surprisingly, it turned out to be just that. Though boiling with spite and quite unapologetic for the things I had spat back at her, I subconsciously emerged from the argument with the inexhaustible need to prove her wrong. I didn’t want any of those things to be true, even if I didn’t think they were in the first place. They couldn’t be true. I had to make sure they would never be. 

It was the beginning of sixth year, certainly not too late to put a bit of effort in and give Lily the big “ha-ha” by showing her how worthwhile my life could (and would) be. My entire focus was no longer the applause of the crowds or the cheering of students in the Great Hall. It was wholeheartedly and myopically dedicated to proving that I could succeed. I could be great.

I would study for hours, do meticulous research in the library, cut down on trickery, and pay attention (to some extent) in class. Then, in no time, I would have my success. I would have my last laugh. I would have Lily Evans, jaw dropped and head spinning. After that, all I had to do was figure out what I wanted to do and I was set. Ha-ha.

Of course, I didn’t dwell on my thoughts for long. I wasn’t too much of the sensitive, reflective type, but in fact, Lily Evans had unintentionally catalyzed my change, though she had gotten snapped and screamed at for it. 

Oh well. To me, she deserved it. Ha-ha-ha.

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